Page 76 of Research with Rivals
Carter laughed. “She doesn’t seem to care, Arctos.”
Lord Arctos batted away Carter’s words the same way he usually flapped his wing against my face. At least he acted that way with everyone.
Carter finally took control. “What kind of connection are we looking for, exactly?”
Evelyn glanced at me. While she had no concerns speaking to Lord Arctos of our connection, she was hesitant where the Vesten Point was involved.
“She doesn’t want to admit that she and Mr. Yarrow, on top of being brilliant researchers, have also managed to magically bind themselves together while working on our little problem. She can describe what to look for in detail, but it will be a reflection of their bond, not ours.”
I ran my hand through my hair. Lord Arctos could be correct. It wasn’t that Evelyn was embarrassed by our relationship. She was embarrassed by our stupidity with blood magic. We were supposed to be presenting our best selves to the Vesten Point so he would select one of us for the Vesten historian position. It made sense she wouldn’t want to air our magical blunders.
“Technically, Lord Arctos is correct,” Evelyn stated matter-of-factly. “The connection between Ambrose and me is a rope, with a knot in the center. I imagine the magic grows over time. Yours will likely be something even more stabilizing.”
Her words rolled over me, but they paled in comparison to the reminder that there was still only one Vesten historian position. I had pushed aside those thoughts this morning in favor of my and Evelyn’s future. But would our relationship survive one of us being named historian?
This experience had helped me find my own perspective on blood magic, but I already had one on the court’s history. I also knew Evelyn would consider it a betrayal if I didn’t give the competition my all, if I didn’t keep searching for the answers. Our relationship only stood a chance if we could continue topush each other—it was part of what had always worked between us.
We had to keep going. Not just because it would break our bond, or because one of us would win the position, or even to fulfill the project Lord Arctos had assigned, but because it was what I loved to do. It was what she loved to do, too.
But could our fledgling … romance survive the Vesten Point’s decision?
I swallowed thickly.
Evelyn glanced at me. She must have finished her explanation. Lord Arctos and Carter stood in the water facing each other.
“Should I hold his hand?” Lord Arctos asked.
“Do what feels right,” Evelyn said with a smile.
I would do anything for that smile. I would even compete with her for something I knew she wanted. I would challenge her the way she challenged me. I would have to trust that she would want me exactly as I was.
31
Evelyn
They found … something. In truth, I wasn’t focused on Lord Arctos and Carter bickering with everything else flooding my mind.
I’d slept with Ambrose Yarrow last night.
What was I thinking?
My veil cat growled as she prowled back and forth in the recesses of my mind. Alright, so some of us knew what we’d been thinking.
Ambrose got me in a way no one else seemed to. Not only since our blood magic accident—he had for some time, he just hadn’t known how to show it. Ambrose saw more than I wanted him to, but he didn’t press on my points of discomfort. He waited patiently for the best time to intercede.
Our passions for knowledge intersected in a complementary way, when we weren’t arguing over methods. Now that I understood his hangups, I knew his interest in blood magic was only further elevated by his complicated relationship with it.
All of it summed up meant that he pushed me to be the best version of myself—to own my place between fae and human.
I sighed. My mental summary did not make whatever was between us feel casual. Maybe the worst part was that I didn’twantit to be, either.
This morning, when I had announced to Arctos that we were in the same room together, I’d conveniently forgotten that Ambrose and I were competing for the Vesten historian position.
It changes things, right?
My veil cat was silent. So much for the animal always knowing.
Last night had felt wholly ours, wholly separated from our blood magic blunder, the competition for historian, and even my father. I’d felt safe, desired, and empowered to want something for myself.
